Cognitive Dissent

NRA-Assisted Suicide Like Jesus Is Just #AltRight

Gun control has never worked in America because Americans are addicted to machines that provide leverage or entertainment, no matter how dire the consequences of owning or operating those machines turn out to be. Take the Internet.

Oh, yeah, I see you already have.

Most people have absolutely no need for a weapon of individual destruction, but many still argue that the Second Amendment gives every American — no matter how stupid, how inept, how narcissistic, how cruel — the right to own even weapons of mass destruction, like the AR15, which, after all, is a military grade weapon capable of mowing down entire families of fleeing refugees in less time than it takes to shake the last drops off your pecker after a leak.

So why is there any debate on whether to remove these weapons from our streets?

Because our nation of miserable fucks is addicted to poopadoodle, which is the word pataphysicians use to describe American politics. There is a direct link between a poopadoodler’s promoting the need for public debate on any topic and his or her need to privately masturbate over those same topics and many others too exciting to discuss on this family oriented blog.

The reason Americans put up with more than 40,000 gun deaths a year in the name of freedumbocracy has nothing to do with the Second Amendment or freedom. It has to do with the supply-side urinomics model and our insane prejudice against rational solutions to fixable problems. Americans are believers, not thinkers. The problem with belief is that it denies empirical evidence because it relies on magical thinking, which is another term for what white people call American “history."

We can’t do anything about gun control, because restricting access to firearms would cost too many good-paying jobs and would harm the greatest economy the world has ever known, which is bullshit, of course. Jobs disappear every day and are replaced by other jobs or by more efficient and reliable machines. The American worker has proven itself to be a high maintenance, low reward commodity to the one tenth of one percent of the population that owns the rest of us working on their plantations.

Weapons produced for the domestic market are actually a small portion of the actual output of arms makers who sell their best stuff to foreigners fighting wars we started to sell other products. That’s how capitalism works. The plantation owners no longer have to kidnap foreigners to do labor. They simply hire the un- and under-educated offspring of people who used to believe in the American Dream, but now believe that someone else from over there or in outer space is trying to take it away from them.

Another reason we can’t do anything about gun control is that we’re running out of time by not doing anything about manmade climate change, which is likely to make most of the economic, political, religious, technological, and social systems we rely on totally obsolete within 50 to 100 years. Why are we not working on climate change? Because we have an opioid epidemic caused by another bug in the capitalism machine in the pharmaceutical sector that we can’t work on because of major problems with the healthcare delivery system that we can’t work on because of the partisan divide over whether to fund abortions that we can’t work on because we need more unwanted children to feed into the prison industrial complex, which was envisioned by the founding fathers as the only thing that makes America great, at least according to strict constitutional constructists.

So to sum up: solving problems costs too much and takes too much time, so shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down and watch some fucking TV, preferably Fox News.

But what if we tried a different approach and tried to solve even one small part of the hundreds of solvable problems we don’t have the courage and stamina to tackle?

What if we looked at the gun violence problem, and instead of focusing on the guns and angry idiots who use them, we looked at controlling the really dangerous part of gun culture: the ammunition?

Do you realize that even a Browning automatic rifle would be no more dangerous to the average American school child than a sledgehammer, if it had no bullets? 

It’s true.

Without bullets, well-intentioned assholes wouldn’t be wasting energy trying to keep the news media from not mentioning the names of Tashfeen Malik, James Holmes, John Hinckley, Dylan Roof, Omar Mateen, Eric Harris, Adam Lanza, Patrick Sherrill, Nidal Malik Hasan, Ian Long, Nickolas Cruz, Robert Bowers, Syed Rizwan Farook, Robert Gregory Bowers, Kip Kinkle,  Jarrod Ramos, Howard Unruh, Stephen Paddock, Seung-Hui Cho, Devin Patrick Kelley, Dylan Klebold,  James Huberty, or Charles Whitman because those assholes wouldn’t have slaughtered a few hundred people and sold millions of papers and magazines and advertising to line the pockets of rich white fucks on radio and TV.

Without bullets, gun collectors would be no more dangerous than the average arctophile, coleopterist, deltiologist, numismatist, philatelist, or tegestologist. They could still keep their guns and buy new ones. Without bullets, suddenly the weather or food carts would be the worst thing that would happen to you on the streets of Chicago.

“But Dr. Faustroll,“ I hear some of you saying, “how would such an uncommonly sensible solution to the constant bloodshed in our schools, churches  homes, shopping centers, and other places actually work?”

I’m glad you asked.

Let’s begin with the kinds of social engineering we used to get people to wear seat belts, to stop smoking, or to refrain from other harmful activities such as poisoning the environment and stopping priests from raping children by giving them Pornhub subscriptions.

We could treat gun violence as a sin and tax it like alcohol, recreational marijuana, and tobacco. We could use an existing agency to implement this program. It’s called the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and (Really, get ready for it, I’m not kidding) FIREARMS.

But as I’ve already said, there’s no need to control the firearms themselves if we focus on the most deadly aspect of weaponry: the bullets.

I propose making a single round of ammo for domestic use, regardless of caliber, a minimum of $50 during the initial implementation, with a planned increases until demand ceases. No exceptions for anyone: hunters, cops, military. If you want a bullet, you pay full price.

How would this minimum price be achieved? Through a combination of taxes, fees, and refundable deposits uniformly applied in all 50 states.

I propose a solution to gun violence that uses proven strategies like bottle bills and supply-side economic theory to make it too fucking expensive for murderous assholes to poke holes in people, places, and things with this simple three pronged approach.

  1. Establish a nationwide minimum per unit price for each round of ammo by caliber with a 22 bullet going for $10 a pop, pun intended. A 30 caliber round should go for $30-40. You should pay a minimum of $20 for a shotgun shell. Details can be worked out in conference between Demoblicans and Repugnicunts.
  2. Enact a nationwide surcharge, also tied to individual rounds, ranging from $10-50 depending on the kinds of injuries and slaughter to civilian targets observed during the previous five years in non-combat situations. This surcharge would be placed in a trust fund, similar to the Social Security, to be used for rehabilitation of gun violence survivors and to help the families of all those rotting bodies to damaged to resurrect.
  3. Require a $10 per round deposit across the board, regardless of ammo type, that can be redeemed by whoever brings a spent casing to a retail outlet that sells the piercing joy juice that ammosexuals crave. In addition to making firing off a burst even more prohibitively expensive, it can become a source of income for kids, the homeless, and others willing to clean up the carnage on our streets and the debris left in our national parks.

There it is in a nutshell, an uncommonly sensible suggestion from this cognitive dissident to our modern world of potential targets. Feel free to tweak it.

Makes more sense than putting everyone in body armor, although I’m sure the NRA and munitions makers would much prefer the latter, the scumbags.

Deport Spanky’s Illegal Children

When Spanky Ubu signs his executive order tearing up the 14th amendment and doing away with birthright citizenship, I hope ICE is prepared to sweep in & confiscate all of Der Donald’s children (with the exception of Tiffany) for being the illegal demon spawn of foreign born hookers.

Or would that be an unintended consequence of his stupid electioneering?

One Day 7 Hours Until All Heck Is Unleashed

I am on many mailing lists because time is made to be wasted, and among the #BeBest time wasters has to be anything oozing from the House of tRump. Here’s one I got today from Son of Spanky.

People often ask me why I always where a button that says: “I DID IT!”

It’s unsolicited emails like this commending me for whatever terrible shit is going on in the world that makes me understand somebody needs to take some responsibility. It might as well be me.

Why Twitter Can’t Ban Domestic Terrorists

While @jack and his crew of #VeryFinePeople keep letting Nazis, white supremacists, Klan apologists and the Wannabe Führer of the United States threaten and intimidate ethnic minorities and average Americans with minority viewpoints, they find plenty of time and resources to censo.., err, suspend satirical writers and lifelong pataphysicists whose gibes and burns are just too vicious for the high tech pantywaists and schoolmarms who want nothing more than total control of what Americans think, write, or do.

At the beginning of my current 7-day suspension for mocking feckless #Repugnicunts @tomilahren and @megynkelly, I filed an appeal of @Twitter’s arbitrary and capricious enforcement of their kakistocratic rules by simple calling them censorious cunts, thinking nothing would come of it.

Nothing did, except this meritocratic horse exhaust:

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Meanwhile Twitter continues to allow Spanky and his gang to post incitements to violence 24 hours a day 7 days a week without so much as an occasional #shadowban while those of us mocking the powerful and playfully engaging in the deflation of pompous windbags can expect to spend hours or days silenced for daring to laugh at the assholes in the emperor’s and empresses’ hoary clothes.

Until this morning, Twitter had a placeholder on my feed (@doctorfaustroll) for a deleted tweet on October 24, 2018 that said the tweet had been removed for violating Twitter’s terms of service, but I just noticed that even that placeholder is now gone. This is the tweet that offended them so:

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I still have 2 days and 7 hours left in detention rolling spitballs, pissing into balloons and filling paper bags with dog shit that I will begin deploying on Twitter in 2 days, 7 hours & 30 seconds. Wear foul weather gear. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

The horror. The horror.

How Twitter Defines Hateful Conduct

I’m suspended from Twitter again. I’m either in Twitter timeout or Shadowbanned at least weekly, but I find this latest suspension the most fucking oxymoronic yet.


I can only assume that @jack and @TwitterSupport were offended that I was mocking some seriously diseased assholes. 

#MAGABomber Bombs on Big Stage

Why will I not be surprised when the connection between Donald Spanky Trump and former male stripper and window sticker addict Cesar Sayoc end up being old acquaintances?

I wonder if Trump Charities had Shorty Sayoc perform at Mar A Lago.

Regulate ammo like drink containers

When I was a kid growing up in NYC, I remember scumbags and turds floating in the East River and Long Island Sound, but still there was local opposition to the construction of sewage plants that slowly cleaned the waterways as the infrastructure was built out. 

This was more than a decade before the Cuyahoga River caught fire in Ohio. Governments on the east coast had been dumping human waste in the Atlantic since the early 1930s, and that shit and sludge began arriving on the beaches to celebrate the bicentennial.

For some, it may be difficult to think that only 60 years ago, many lived in an environment that amounted to an open-sewer in even large American cities. In fact, in the red state rural areas today some proud deplorables still have indoor outhouses that pipe their shit and piss into open cess ponds out back. Kentucky, I’m looking at you.

At the same time, I remember also carrying my mother’s Pepsi bottles across the street to Bloise’s to redeem the deposit, which back then was less than a nickel. I’ve lived in several states since, some of them much more environmentally toxic than others, but invariably, the least toxic and best places to live had some form of bottle bill to help clean up the consequence of living in a superstitious consumer society.

Gun violence was already a thing in the 40s. I wasn’t even in kindergarten yet when Howard Unruh took a Luger and killed 13 and wounded four in Camden, New Jersey. It could have been worse. He ran out of ammo and was arrested at his home, telling the cops that he would have killed thousands if he had enough ammo.

When Charles Whitman took to the tower in Texas, I was at Clemson, preparing to drop out and get drafted.

This was all before the NRA became a latter day founding father of this nation of miserable fucks.

I don’t like weapons. I write things, but unlike Henri Michaux, who in "I am Writing to You From a Far Off Country" wrote: “I do not say this in order to wound. I could say other things if i really wanted to wound,” I am not averse to inflicting pain on those incapable of joy or reason.

I have no commonly held opinions. I’m a cynic, like Diogenes, the man who originally told Alexander the Great that the problem with common sense is it is so damned common. Idiots have common sense. Idiots are deplorable. Idiots elected Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, two George Bushes, and Donald Trump. Idiots are counter-indicative to a functioning democracy, which is a concept based on uncommon sense.

To put it another way: There is no common sense; it is common nonsense.

Which is why I propose that the way to curb gun violence in this nation of miserable fucks is to employ an uncommonly sensible approach, combining a minimalist reading of the Second Amendment with the successes of bottle bills and other taxes and fees that have traditionally been used to deter bad behavior or encourage acts for the common good.

Here are the exact words of the Second Amendment: "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” There is no mention of a right to own and bear ammunition.

Bottle bills exist in 10 states today. They provide income to the poor and homeless who become environmental stewards simply by trying to stay alive by cashing in containers that rich fucks just toss out the window as they drive back and forth between their meaningless jobs and their meaningless lives. Bottle bills help reduce waste in landfills as well as removing litter on our streets and in our parks and wild areas. 

Cigarette and alcohol taxes are designed not only to raise revenue but to reduce unhealthy behaviors that are a drain on society because everyone contributes to a healthcare infrastructure that those with self-inflicted disorders put an unfair burden upon. I’ve been a smoker, an addict, and an alcoholic, and when I was most thoroughly immersed in those addictions I was most apt to be unproductive and a drain on friends, family, and society. Not that I gave a fuck.

I suggest that gun violence in America is an addictive behavior exhibited by ammosexuals who really enjoy putting holes in things, blowing shit up, and killing animals — including humans — because that’s how they get high. You can’t reason with an addict. An addict will either die or kick the addiction, and most addicts don’t intentionally kill themselves so making their lives miserable is the only proven method I’ve seen to bring about a change. It worked for me. The power of anecdotalism is strong.

Another thing about modern America is how batshit crazy it is for market-driven solutions that are really designed by those with money and power to maintain and grow their money in power. I bet there are still idiots waiting for Ronald Reagan’s prosperity to trickle down to them. Oh wait, those are the deplorables, aren’t they? You know, those poor put-upon white folks who felt so deprived they voted straight Nazi in 2016.

I propose a solution to gun violence that uses proven strategies like bottle bills and supply-side economic theory to make it too fucking expensive for murderous assholes to poke holes in people, places, and things with this simple three pronged approach.

  1. Establish a nationwide minimum per unit price for each round of ammo by caliber with a 22 bullet going for $10 a pop. Pun intended. A 30 caliber round should go for $30-40. You should pay a minimum of $20 for a shotgun shell. Details can be worked out in conference between Demoblicans and Repugnicunts.
  2. Enact a nationwide surcharge, also tied to individual rounds, ranging from $10-50 depending on the kinds of injuries and slaughter observed during the previous five years in non-combat situations. This surcharge would be placed in a trust fund, similar to the Social Security, to be used for rehabilitation of gun violence survivors and to help the families of all those rotting bodies.
  3. Require a $10 per round deposit across the board, regardless of ammo type, that can be redeemed by whoever brings a spent casing to a retail outlet that sells the piercing joy juice that ammosexuals crave. In addition to making firing off a burst even more prohibitively expensive, it can become a source of income for kids, the homeless, and others willing to clean up the carnage on our streets and the debris left in our national parks.

There it is in a nutshell, an uncommonly sensible suggestion from this cognitive dissident to our modern world of potential targets. Feel free to tweak it.

Makes more sense that putting everyone in body armor.

Are we there yet?

I was born an agnostic bastard. My father was a lapsed Catholic, my mother a Southern Baptist. They were born in New Jersey and Kentucky respectively. They met and married at Camp Campbell in Hopkinsville, KY, the nuptials conducted by a justice of the peace. After my father was discharged while recovering from a broken back, they moved to New York City, where my father became a master machinist and my mother a housewife who eventually had four children, sold Avon cosmetics, made costume jewelry, and worked as a crossing guard.

Before they had a second child, they married again in a Catholic church so I could be baptized to save my worthless soul and my siblings would be born Catholic and saved as well. I was too young to tell them not to waste their time, but I suspect that happens to a lot of little kids whose arms are too short to give God a wedgie.

Because my imaginary soul was in danger of going to hell without proper and constant indoctrination, my parents argued and compromised and decided I should attend the Dutch Reform Church across the street (where I later joined a Boy Scout troop and got blown by Scoutmaster Armitage) instead of St. Francis of Assisi (where I would later be blown by Father Capaldi) until I was old enough to have my own paper route.

But to keep my grandmother happy, I had to go to Catechism class after elementary school twice a week where Sister Diana would rap my knuckles whenever I mentioned dinosaurs, nuclear bombs, and niggers, none of which seemed to fit in with the Catechism lessons.

This was back when I had to wear dog tags to go to school. Everybody had to wear them in case the Russians bombed the shit out of us with nuclear weapons. The idea was that if we didn’t have our dog tags, no one would be able to identify our bodies, and our families would not be getting the insurance money they were due after the Russians attacked.

During all the church-related horseshit, I only remember my mother participating in the religious crap that makes America so fucking ordinary by taking the kids to Robert Hall to buy Easter outfits. She may have attended our first communions and confirmations. I still take pride in receiving my confirmation with a sacrilege on my soul, having lied during confession prior to getting slapped by the bishop.

My father only went to church once, after Father Schaefer listened to my youngest brother confess to masturbating and responded by telling him that God would never forgive him. He was going to Hell, and his pecker would burn for eternity. My father went to church to kill Father Schaefer. I wish I could say my father was successful, but he was a failure.

It was a very strange time to grow up. Not as strange as it must be today for young kids in this crazy nation of miserable fucks, but my life was already pretty miserable before I got to junior high.

Not that I was unhappy. I enjoyed all sorts of shit. I liked reading, and I had friends in the neighborhood and at school and at the park where I learned to play handball and got quite good at it. I liked fishing in Long Island Sound, Great South Bay, and in the Atlantic Ocean.

I was a lefty. Still am. No thanks to Mrs. Milano. She wanted everyone to be righties. She made me write with my wrong hand in class, which resulted in terrible report cards home about my terrible penmanship. When we started having a lot of homework, I did it with my left hand, so Mrs. Milano called my parents to school to find out who was doing my homework.

This happened in the fourth grade, of course. In America, the fourth grade is where your dreams are crushed by socialization, and you begin to be sorted out by the educational system into crazies, worker drones, soldiers, inmates, and a few lucky kids who are given merit badges, which aren’t called that, of course, until you become a Scout. 

I forgot to mention that this was during the McCarthy era when America was also a scary place for many adults. My parents were actually afraid of Mrs. Milano. It was not a good time to stand out like a sore thumb. That was a popular saying at the time. It meant everyone should mind their manners and do what they were told, "or else". No one really wanted to find out what "or else" meant. Everyone figured it was probably pretty bad. Families in the neighborhood occasionally disappeared.

In elementary school, you got red, blue, green, silver, and gold stars you could paste next to your name on a big chalkboard in the back of the room. It was our earliest introduction to Capitalism. The stars were worthless, but for some reason the teachers were determined to make us want to earn and collect them, because the more stars we got, especially the gold and silver ones, the better we were treated. Kids with the fewest and least important stars were going to prison or die in the war.

Don’t ever let anyone fool you. America is always at war. It has always been at war. It will always be at war until America is no more. That’s why everyone else in the world is our enemy. You think that a bunch of guys from the Middle East just got drunk and decided to fly airliners into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon as a prank? They were getting even for America’s ongoing war against world peace. They chose September 11 because that was the anniversary of the US assassination of Salvador Allende during the Reagan administration.

When George W. Bush responded to 9/11 by calling for a crusade against terrorism, he re-ignited a religious war that predated America’s entry into it. 

Looking back on my early years, I can now say that all I learned was not to trust anyone about anything because everyone in a position of authority knew absolutely nothing of any value. They were believers. Believers are the worst form of humanity.

Later in college I discovered that there was a word for my world view. I was a cynic. I could trace my discomfort with humanity back to Diogenes, who died in Greece 300 years before Christ got people so pissed off they nailed him to a cross and then turned him into the cash cow that they still milk today.

Cynicism is a necessary survival skill when you’re committed to remaining a free citizen in this nation of miserable fucks.

Reflections on a dragon booger

By now everyone has seen this odd video about the bryozoan from the Lost Lagoon in Vancouver, British Columbia, eh?

I came across it at Popular Science, which has an entertaining write-up here.

What was news to me was that assholes can be either internal or external, and when you’re living in water it doesn’t really matter where your asshole, penis, pussy, or mouth is because whatever you excrete, you’re swimming in it. Sort of like Houston after Hurricane Harvey but currently two thirds of Earth’s surface.

Only a scientist would get up one morning and say: “You know, I bet not all assholes are the same, and you can tell the difference between them by watching whether they shit all over everything or they hold it inside and live lives of desperate quietude. I think I’ll study that for the rest of my life!”

Dragon boogers are extroverted assholes. We all know plenty of introverted assholes. There will probably even be transverted assholes after some asshole complains that this site is obviously too binary for its own good. I prefer averted assholes whenever possible. Perverted assholes are also pretty bad.

Although these so-called dragon boogers look like a single living blob, they are actually a commune of individual organisms who band together for the greater good to share a single asshole, much like 40 million American voters continue to rally around their singular asshole, Russian Turd Puppet Donald Trump.

Read the entire Popular Science article and share it with family and friends, many of whom may be the kind of living organisms that gather together just to be repulsive as possible wallowing in the slime below the bottom of the barrel because that’s what’s going to make America great again.

Do not normalize deplorable scumbags

The same irresponsible professional media that shamelessly sold #RussiantRumpRanger propaganda to more than 60 million ignorant, bigoted, cowardly Amerikan voters is now calling upon the outraged rational members of society not to further alienate the vicious immoral jerks that showed up at the polls to vote their black consciences and put one of their idols in the White House.

This is nothing new. Professional media people have engaged in championing totalitarian mindfuckers since I was old enough to sit in a classroom and try to resist the horseshit that passes for discourse and education and civic responsibility. Nixon was reelected and allowed to get away with murdering millions of people because our fourth estate is, after all, just another of the estates in our evolving oligarchy.

Donnie Dimwit is and was a clearly racist, sexist, xenophobic, rabble-rouser and yet the media continued its 50 year slog down the road to ignoring obvious signs of cancer on the body politic by encouraging the very worst in Amerika to elect the very worst candidate available because that’s The American Way.

We are a nation of miserable fucks and have been since we arose from the muck because we’re fucking humanists, incapable of understanding what Bukowski meant in “those sons of bitches” when he wrote:

one tombstone for the mess,
I say:
humanity, you never had it
from the beginning.

It’s bad enough that more than 60 million Amerikans voted for Tweetie Turd, but even now in the third month of this death spiral of incompetence, malevolence, and vindictiveness, a mere 3% of people who admit to voting for a Hitler wannabe claim they regret their vote.

Three fucking percent, which means that more than 58 million voters should not be trusted with firearms because they are obviously batshit crazy. They’re not just stupid. They are proud of their ignorance. Why else would anyone wear a tee-shirt like this?

They buy stickers and posters:

Don’t forgive or ignore these toxic scumbags. Words have meanings. Actions have consequences. Before you extend a hand to any of these worthless pieces of shit, remember that you will not be able to wash it off when the stench becomes too horrible to stand because you will have willingly taken that shit into your soul and become one with the very essence of what it means to be deplorable.

If you’re OK with that, fine. You are my intractable enemy, and I will work to do whatever I can to make sure you suffer the fate you deserve. If you can’t admit that you were and are wrong for supporting our current national embarrassment you are no better than he is.


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